Heal Me
by Emmie0928
Summary: It's been two years since Lord Voldemort was defeated, but Draco Malfoy is still plagued by the awful memories he has from his time as a Death Eater. He spends most of his days ignoring everyone and most of his nights drinking until he can forget. His entire life seems hopeless until a certain girl shows up.
1. Chapter 1

Most nights, Draco Malfoy drank until he didn't know which way was up and which way was down. He drank until all the girls were pretty. He drank until he didn't remember a thing that had happened the entire night. But most of all, Draco Malfoy drank until he could forget. Forget how he'd been forced to torture Thorfinn Rowle. Forget the screams of innocent people. Forget the murders and every other horrific thing he'd ever witnessed. Forget who is family was. Forget who _he_ was.

* * *

She caught his eye immediately. Even in his intoxicated state he was sure that she had to be one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Long, chestnut-colored hair that cascaded down her back in a sea of curls. Big, green eyes. Red lips. Flawless skin.

Draco watched as she stepped inside the pub, greeted a few people, and sat down at the bar, five stools down from him.

He realized that she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her. This bothered him. He'd known a lot of girls in the 20 years he'd been alive, but he couldn't believe that he'd forget one this beautiful.

He downed another firewhiskey and continued watching her. What was a girl like her doing here anyway? A girl like that didn't belong in a filthy pub in Knockturn Alley.

_Maybe, _he thought, as he took a large gulp of yet another firewhiskey,_ she's in some kind of trouble. Or maybe she's trying to drink her problems away. Like me._

When she turned her head and briefly made eye contact with him, he finally realized who she was.

Astoria Greengrass.

_No wonder I didn't recognize her at first_, he thought._ Last time I saw her she was in her fifth year at Hogwarts._

She had the same eyes as her sister. That was how he recognized her. In every other way, the two of them looked nothing alike. Daphne was shorter and curvier with honey-colored hair and pale skin. Astoria, on the other hand, was tall and very thin with dark hair and tanned skin.

* * *

Sometime later that night, Draco ended up in a fight with some guy who had insulted him. Of course, even in the grimiest pubs in Knockturn Alley, fighting was prohibited. So the next thing Draco knew he was being tossed out into the rain.

He leaned against the wall and tried to figure out what to do. He was too drunk to Apparate home; he could barely stand on his own two feet. He'd never gotten kicked out of a pub before. Plenty of people had hurled insults at him in the past, taunting him about his family or the mark that was forever engraved in his left arm, reminding him and everyone else in the world that he had once been a Death Eater. But he had always ignored them. He'd never started a fight before.

But this had been different.

* * *

Astoria Greengrass pushed the pub door open and stepped outside into the rain. She pulled her coat more tightly around herself and squinted through the rain and darkness at the figure leaning up against the building.

"Malfoy?" she called, taking a few steps closer. "Why are standing out here in the rain?"

He stared at her, his eyelids drooping. She wondered how much he'd had to drink.

"Surely you noticed that I just got kicked out," he said, somehow managing to sound condescending even while slurring his words. "Or are you that obtuse, Greengrass?"

She ignored his insult. "But aren't you going home?" she asked. For some reason, the fact that he knew who she was pleased her. She had no idea why, though. She'd always found him to be a bit of a git.

"Too drunk," he murmured. "Might splinch myself."

She stared at him, his blond hair matted down with rain and his grey eyes bloodshot, and she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

"Then what are you going to do?" she asked.

He sneered at her. "Are you really trying to have a conversation with me in the pouring rain?"

"I want to make sure you get home," she snapped at him, annoyed that she even cared.

"And why the hell do you want to do that?" he slurred. "You don't even know me."

"I guess it's because I'm a nice person," she replied. "Although I'm not surprised if that's a foreign concept to you."

He didn't reply. He just continued looking at her, his lips curled. She wanted to smack him. What gave him the right to act like such a prick? She was only trying to help.

"I'll take you home," she said. "To your place, I mean. Where do you live?"

At first he looked like he wasn't going to tell her. But after a minute he must have realized that he didn't want to spend the night out there in the pouring rain and he muttered his address. She grabbed his arm and the next thing he knew, they had landed inside his flat.

Astoria wrinkled her nose. "It smells like cheap firewhiskey and stale cigarette smoke in here."

"You get used to it," said Draco.

"Do you smoke?" she asked, a look of disgust on her face. "That's so… muggle."

"Of course not," he replied, clutching his stomach, looking slightly ill from Apparating. "That smell is leftover from whoever lived here before me."

"You know that there's a spell that would get rid of it," she said, as she eyed him warily, hoping that he wasn't about to puke.

"I'm not sober often enough to bother with it," he replied.

"Lovely," she muttered.

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "You can go now."

"Fine," she said. "I don't want to stick around this dump anyway."

"Good," he replied.

"But don't you think I at least deserve a thank you?"

He was quite for a moment. "Thank you," he quickly mumbled, not looking at her.

Astoria's eyebrows shot up in the air. She hadn't expected him to actually say it. "You're welcome," she replied, before turning on her heel and Disapparating.

* * *

There was nothing Draco disliked more than sleeping. Sleeping meant nightmares. There were flashes of green light. Screams. Voldemort's voice—high-pitched and chilling—ordering him to torture Rowle. "_Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure... Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!_" He'd wake up, covered in sweat, sometimes even screaming, having forgotten for a moment that the war had been over for two years. That he was safe in bed. That everything was just a memory. A sick, twisted memory that he'd never be able to forget.

* * *

Draco awoke the next day from a particularly terrifying nightmare with a headache. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Images of the night before flashed through his mind.

Sitting at the bar.

A pretty girl walking in.

Getting in a fight.

Being tossed out in the rain.

Astoria Greengrass bringing him home.

He sighed. Why had he even gotten in that fight? He remembered that the man had said something that had really angered him. Had angered him more than the usual petty insults that were thrown his way. But he couldn't remember what it was. The whole night just seemed like a blurry mess. Just like most nights, actually.

He rolled over, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head, and reached into the drawer of the small table beside his bed. After rummaging around for a bit, he pulled out a small bottle. It was a hangover potion. Something that he always on hand. He quickly downed the entire thing.

As he waited for the effects to kick in, his thoughts turned to Astoria. He wondered why she'd even bothered to help him. He'd been a complete arse to her, or at least he was pretty sure he had been. The details were fuzzy. Not that it had been anything against her personally; he was an arse to everyone. It was just easier that way.

Slowly, he felt the pain in his head fade away. The sick feeling in his stomach also disappeared. He realized that he was hungry. Now would be a good time for breakfast. He glanced at the clock—or maybe lunch. He stumbled out of bed, pulling on the nearest clothes he could, not bothering to check whether they were clean or dirty. Though they were most likely dirty; he couldn't remember the last time he'd done any laundry.

There was no food in his flat—there never was—so he Apparated to the café in Diagon Alley that he ate at nearly every day. He took a seat at his usual outdoor table. All traces of last night's rain had been vanished away by the restaurant staff. There wasn't a drop of water in sight.

He was reading the Daily Prophet and drinking a cup of coffee when a shadow fell over him. He glanced up and found himself looking straight at Astoria Greengrass.

"You look better," she said.

He shrugged, looking back down at his paper, wishing she would go away. He didn't like talking to people, especially when he was sober. Ever since the war, he'd found it difficult to relate to anyone.

He heard a scraping sound and his head shot back up. Astoria was sitting down in the chair across from him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Sitting down," she said.

"Well, go do that somewhere else," he said. "I prefer to eat alone."

"There are no other empty tables," she said.

He glanced around. Sure enough, she was right. "There are probably some inside," he said.

"I like the fresh air."

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it?"

She just smirked at him.

He sighed loudly, but stopped protesting. It was apparent that this girl wasn't going to listen.

They sat in silence for a bit, and Draco found himself watching her as she ate. She was dressed very casually—her long hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was wearing a faded T-shirt and a ratty pair of jeans. She looked a little out of place, like a random muggle girl who had somehow wandered into Diagon Alley.

"You don't look much like your sister," he found himself saying.

She glanced up from her sandwich and smiled. "No, but we do have the same eyes."

"Yeah, I noticed that," he said. "How is Daphne, anyway?"

"She's fine. Busy getting ready for the wedding, obviously."

"What wedding?" he asked.

Astoria looked at him strangely. "She's marrying Blaise Zabini."

"Is she?"

"You didn't know that? Aren't Blaise and Daphne friends of yours?"

"They used to be," he replied. "But I haven't talked to either of them in ages. I don't really have any friends anymore."

He couldn't believe that Daphne was marrying Blaise. He'd never pegged her for the type of girl who'd ever settle down. She'd been a bit of floozy back in their school days, flitting from guy to guy. Even he had fallen into bed with her on a couple of occasions.

* * *

Astoria wasn't sure why she had sat down at Draco Malfoy's table. It was obvious he didn't want her there. There was just something about him that intrigued her, something she couldn't put her finger on.

He'd been quiet at first, drinking his coffee and ignoring her, but eventually they began talking.

She was shocked when she found out he didn't know Daphne was getting married. Was he really that cut off from everyone?

"Why were you in that pub last night?" asked Draco suddenly, after the conversation had begun to lag a little once more. "It didn't really look like the type of place you'd usually spend your time."

Astoria blushed. The reason was so ridiculous that she almost didn't want to say. "Er," she said, staring down at the table, pretending to be extremely interested in the name someone had scratched into its surface. "I just felt like it."

Draco didn't seem to buy this. "Seriously?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "I was actually hoping that my ex-boyfriend would be in there. I knew that he goes there a lot, and I really wanted to talk to him. But he wasn't there."

"If you want to talk to him so badly, why don't you just owl him? Then you could agree on a place to meet, and you wouldn't have to wander around, hoping to run into him."

"It might sound a bit mental, but I don't want him to know that I want to talk to him. I want it to be an 'Oh wow, fancy running into you here' moment. I don't want him to think that I'm, like, desperate to talk to him or something."

He chuckled. "But aren't you?"

* * *

_It felt odd to laugh_, thought Draco. He couldn't remember the last time he had. There hadn't been anything to laugh about. Not in a long time. Not until this girl he barely knew had showed up. He didn't think anyone could ever mange to make him laugh again. But she had.

* * *

She ignored his last question, not really wanting to delve into the details of her love life with Draco Malfoy.

"What do you do for a living?" she asked. "I mean, all that alcohol you consume, eating here all the time, paying rent. All that must add up."

"I don't do anything. It's family money."

"Oh," she replied. "I see. You're a trust fund baby."

"Like you're one to talk, Greengrass," he said, sneering. "Your family's just as well-of as mine."

"But I'm going to support myself," she said haughtily."I'm going to be a reporter at the Daily Prophet. I actually have a job interview next week."

"A reporter? Going to be the next Rita Skeeter, are you?"

"Oh, yes," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've already got a large supply of Quick-Quotes Quills on hand."

* * *

Once again, Draco found himself laughing at something Astoria had said. It still felt strange, but in a good way. It reminded him of a time before the war, before he was a Death Eater. A time when he was just a kid who'd stay up late with his friends, laughing about something stupid.

He watched as Astoria stood up, pushing in her chair. "I have to go," she said. "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Wait," he said. "Before you go, can I ask you something?"

She nodded, looking at him expectantly.

"Last night, when I got into that fight, did you happen to hear what the guy said to me that made me punch him? I don't remember, and I want to know what made me react the way I did."

Astoria was quiet for minute. "Yeah," she finally said, "I remember."

"Well?"

"He called you a coward," she replied quietly.

* * *

A coward. That guy in the bar had called him a coward.

Draco clutched his bottle of firewhiskey tightly. He hadn't bothered to go out that night. Instead he sat in the darkest corner of his flat, staring at the wall, empty bottles scattered around his feet. The room was spinning and Astoria's words were echoing over and over again in his head.

_He called you a coward._

Draco took another swig of firewhiskey, trying to suppress her words from his head.

_Coward. Coward. Coward._

"Argh!" he shouted, throwing the bottle across the room in frustration. It shattered into pieces, shards of glass flying everywhere. He'd have to clean it up later, but right now there was no way he'd be able to hold his wand steady.

_I am a coward,_ he thought. _That's why I'm so upset._

Only a coward would obey Voldemort's orders out of fear. Other men—_brave_ men—had stood up to him, had refused to follow him. It had cost them their lives, but they died courageously, standing up for what they believed in. But not him. No, he had just done what he was told, too cowardly to do anything else. Of course, what could you expect from someone who'd spent his whole life hiding behind his family name, avoiding every bit of trouble that came his way? _Just wait until my father hears about this. _He'd been afraid of consequences his entire life. Even now, he was the same way. Too afraid to go out and face the world. He drank himself into oblivion, avoided his family and friends, was plagued with nightmares from the past. And it was all because he was too much of a _coward _to do anything else. To accept that the war had happened, that he done the things he'd done, and move on, building a new life for himself.

* * *

The next morning, he was awakened by the sound of someone knocking on his door. He sat up groggily and looked around. He'd passed out on his kitchen floor the night before.

He stood up, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head, and stumbled toward the door. Who could possibly be knocking? Nobody ever came to his flat.

He fumbled with the latch on his door and pulled it open.

It was Astoria Greengrass.

"You again?" he muttered. "Are you stalking me or something?"

She rolled her eyes, ignoring his question. "I wanted to talk to you about yesterday afternoon. You looked really upset after I told you what that guy had said. And then you just took off, without another word… "

"Could you hold that thought?" asked Draco, feeling extremely queasy. "I'm in desperate need of a hangover potion."

* * *

Astoria watched as Draco disappeared into another room. When he came back, he looked much healthier. She was no longer worried that he was going to vomit all over her.

"What were you saying?" he asked.

"I'm worried about you."

"Why?" he asked, that sneer she despised contorting his handsome face.

"Because I am," she snapped, annoyed that she didn't have a real answer to his question.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I think that you need to get out in the world again. You can't keep ignoring everyone for the rest of your life."

"And why not?"

"Because it's not healthy," she said. "Which is why I think that you should accompany me to my mother's garden party next weekend. It'll be good for you to go somewhere and see some people that you know."

"A garden party?" he asked, a look of disbelief on his face. "You can't honestly be _stupid_ enough to think that I would go to a _garden party_."

* * *

He immediately wished he could take his harsh words back. She looked so hurt when he called her stupid. He was such a bloody idiot, hurting the one girl who seemed to care whether he lived or died, the one girl who could actually make him laugh.

"Fine," she said. "I'll just be going then. Sorry to bother you."

He wasn't sure if he'd just imagined it, but he though he heard her voice crack slightly, like she was about to cry. As she turned and began to walk away, she let out a small sob. This time he was sure of what he'd heard. She was actually crying.

_Shit, _he thought.

"Greengrass, wait."

She turned back around. "What?"

"I'll go to your little garden party, okay?"

Her face immediately broke into a huge smile. "Great!"

He'd never admit it out loud, but the sight of her smiling made him want to smile too. Her smile was so beautiful, so contagious; it made him forget for a minute that the world wasn't perfect.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review!_

_This is going to be pretty short story. I'm thinking that there will be two more chapters, but that could change._


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Astoria Greengrass had seen Draco Malfoy she'd probably been about six. It had been at a party at her house. A garden party. Just like the one she had just invited him to. She remembered running after a couple of friends, darting between groups of adults in fancy robes who were sipping expensive drinks and chatting about finances and other boring grown-up things. She had been in mid-laugh when she crashed into him. "Watch where you're going!" he had said, a scowl on his face. She had stuck her tongue out at him and scampered off to where her friends were waiting. They'd hid behind a bush and watched him for the rest of the night. She remembered thinking that he was cute and wishing that she was a bit older, so he wouldn't just see her as some pesky little kid.

Her little crush was still going strong by the time she started school. She remembered sitting down on the stool to be sorted and immediately searching for his face among all the Slytherins. When she did, she remembered being disappointed that he was deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson, not even looking at her. When the sorting hat placed her in Slytherin, her first thought was: Maybe he'll finally notice me.

He never did though. After all, why would he? She was just a random girl, two years younger than him, who happened to be his friend's sister. She was no one he'd ever bother with.

As she grew older, her crush slowly faded. She began noticing his bullying ways more and more and his handsome looks less and less. By her third year, she could hardly remember why she'd spent so much time thinking about him in the first place.

In her fourth year and his sixth, he'd caught her attention again though. He wasn't himself. He was quieter, sadder. No more snide remarks. No more smug expressions. No more holier-than-thou-attitude.

Later, she'd found out that he was a Death Eater and that he had been plotting to kill Albus Dumbledore. This had horrified her. The Greengrass family, though pureblood and proud, had never technically been supporters of Voldemort. She remembered being disgusted with him. But then, she thought of how he had acted his entire sixth year—depressed, scared even—and she wondered if it was because he hadn't really wanted to. Perhaps he'd been forced into it. After all, very few people were willing to say no to Voldemort.

* * *

"I can't believe I let you drag me to this thing," muttered Draco, as he fidgeted with his dress robes.

"Oh, be quiet, Malfoy," Astoria said, rolling her eyes. "You've been complaining since we got here."

"That's because I've been in serious pain since we got here. I don't even remember the last time I was at a party." He tugged on his robes again. "Or the last time I wore dress robes."

"It's going to be fun."

"I seriously doubt that," he said, looking around.

The party was taking place on the expansive lawn on the Greengrass estate. Everywhere he looked, people were milling about, sipping drinks and chatting. He shuddered. Chatting. He despised chatting.

"Shit," he muttered, spotting someone he recognized.

"What?" asked Astoria.

"My mother's here. Why didn't you tell me my mother was going to be here?"

"How in the world was I supposed to know that?"

"I can't believe I let you drag me to this thing," he mumbled again.

* * *

Astoria was seriously second-guessing her decision to bring Draco Malfoy to this party. A week ago it had seemed like a good idea. He was alone and depressed, an alcoholic who spent his time cooped up in his flat or on a grimy bar stool, and she had felt sorry for him. She had wanted to help him, get him out into the real world, force him to socialize a little bit. But now that they were standing here and she had to deal with his nonstop complaints, she'd wished she'd just left him alone.

* * *

"Are Daphne and Blaise here?" asked Draco. He figured he should congratulate them on their engagement now that he actually knew about it. Better late than never.

Astoria shook her head. "They had other plans."

"Draco, darling!" he heard a voice call.

His mother.

"Hello, mother," he said stiffly, as she strode across the lawn toward him.

"You didn't tell me you were coming to this," she said, as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, engulfing him in the familiar scent of her perfume.

"Astoria forced me," he said, untangling himself from her tight grip.

Narcissa turned toward Astoria and smiled. "Good for you, darling," she said. "He's been so antisocial recently. Merlin knows why."

Draco rolled his eyes_. It couldn't be everything I went through during the war, could it?_ he thought bitterly. _That couldn't possibly be the reason._

"I didn't even know that you two were friends," his mother continued.

"It's a recent thing," said Astoria. "We ran into each other last week and ended up talking for a bit."

_You left out the part where I was drunk off my arse_, thought Draco. _And the part where I was a complete jerk to you._

"Well, isn't that lovely," said Narcissa, smiling."Just lovely."

After she walked away, Draco turned to Astoria. "Are they serving alcohol here?"

* * *

Draco was drunk.

He had gotten drunk at her mother's garden party.

She was watching him from where she stood, pretending to be interested in something some dull woman from the Ministry was telling her. He was sitting at a table by himself, slouched over, and staring into space.

"Excuse me," she said to the woman, before making her way over to him.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked him, unable to hide her annoyance. Why couldn't he stay sober for one evening? Was that really so difficult?

He looked up at her, his eyes drooping a bit. "You can stay if you want," he said. "I can get home on my own."

"You're drunk," she said. "You can't Apparate properly."

"I'm not that drunk," he slurred.

"Yes, you are!" she snapped. "Now come on."

She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. Before he could protest, she had spun on her heel and Disapparated.

* * *

_Astoria Greengrass is beautiful_, Draco thought. _Even when she's angry, she's beautiful._

* * *

"Bringing you to this party was a complete mistake," said Astoria, when she had landed in his flat. "I should have known you were a lost cause. You wanted me to leave you alone; I should have listened."

* * *

A lost cause.

She had called him a lost cause.

She was already giving up on him. The one person who'd bothered with him in ages and she was giving up on him.

And it was his fault.

* * *

Astoria turned to leave.

"Don't go," she heard him call after her.

She turned back around. "Why not?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's obvious you don't want my help."

"That's not true," he muttered under his breath.

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "Because it kind of seems that way."

"Can you just stay a little while?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied. "But only a little while."

"How about until I fall asleep?"

"Fine," she said, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. "But you better fall asleep quickly."

* * *

Draco wasn't competly sure why he'd asked Astoria to stay. A week ago, he'd wished she'd just leave him alone. But the more time he spent with her, the less he actually wanted that. There was something about her. She made him laugh. She wanted to help him. She was different than anyone else. She made him hope.

* * *

**I am so, so sorry that it took me so long to update this. I got caught up in my other story and then I pretty much forgot about this one. **

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Draco," Astoria whispered.

"Mmm," Draco murmured in reply, staring up at the ceiling. There was a crack up there he had never noticed. Perhaps he should get it fixed before it started leaking.

"Daphne and Blaise's wedding is next week," said Astoria.

"Mmm," he murmured again, wondering what spell one would use to fix such a crack.

"I was thinking you could be my plus-one."

Draco rolled over so that he was facing her. "I don't want to go to your sister's wedding, Astoria."

Astoria pouted. "Please."

"No," he said, rolling back onto his back. "I need to stay here. Do some repairs around the house. This place is a dump, surely you've noticed.

"Please," she whispered again, her mouth closer to his ear this time.

She was so close. So close that all he had to do was turn his head slightly to the left and they'd be kissing. And he wanted to. He wanted to kiss her. Badly. How could he not? She was beautiful. She cared about him. She was lying in his bed, whispering things in his ear. But he didn't know how she'd react to him kissing her. What if that's not what she wanted? What if she got angry and left? He couldn't deal with her leaving. Ever since that night of the garden party, two weeks before, she'd stayed with him every night. They hadn't done anything. Just slept. But it made him feel better. It made the nightmares a little more bearable when he woke up to her beautiful face and comforting words.

"Fine," he replied. "I'll be your plus-one."

* * *

Astoria wished Draco would kiss her. Sometimes it seemed like he was about to, but then he never did.

* * *

"Try to control your alcohol consumption at the reception," Astoria whispered, as she and Draco entered the Greengrass mansion on the day of the wedding.

"I can't make any promises," replied Draco. "But I'll try."

For her, he would try.

"You go find a seat. I have to go help Daphne get ready."

"I can't believe you're abandoning me during the entire ceremony," said Draco.

"I'm Daphne's maid of honor, Draco. I don't have a choice. Besides, your mother's here. You can sit with her."

Draco sighed loudly. "Great."

After she walked away, he stood there in the foyer for a minute, looking around. The house reminded him a lot of Malfoy Manor, a place he tried to avoid at all costs these days. It had the same sort of ambiance, haughty and grand, with oriental rugs and ornate chandeliers. The whole place was almost certainly designed to remind visitors just how wealthy the people who lived there were.

He sighed again, and then went to find a seat.

* * *

After the ceremony had ended and the reception had begun, Daphne approached Draco and Astoria.

"Sorry I didn't send you an invitation, Draco," she said, the expression on her face suggesting she wasn't really sorry. "But you haven't exactly been around."

Draco knew that all his old friends from school thought he had gone crazy. None of them wanted anything to do with him, which was fine with him. He knew that Daphne wasn't pleased that Astoria had brought him to her wedding.

Astoria, on the other hand, didn't seem to realize this. She just smiled brightly and said, "I'm going to go get something to drink. You two catch up."

After Astoria had disappeared, Daphne turned to Draco. Her hands were on her hips, her expression furious, and she looked much too scary for someone wearing a white gown and a tiara.

"Are you sleeping with her?" she demanded.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't really see how that's any of your business."

"Of course it's my business. She's my little sister."

Draco didn't say anything.

"You can't use my sister, Draco!" Daphne snapped. "You can't use her like you used me. "

"I'm not using her!" he shot back.

She laughed bitterly. "Good one, Draco. As if you've ever _not_ used a girl."

"Astoria is different," he replied quietly.

Daphne lifted an eyebrow. "Different?"

"She makes me feel…normal." He paused, staring over Daphne's shoulder to where Astoria was standing. "And it's nice to feel normal, Daphne. I haven't felt normal since I was 15 years old."

* * *

Pansy Parkinson had attended the wedding with Marcus Flint. Personally, Astoria had always found Marcus Flint repulsive. She couldn't figure out why Pansy would be with someone like him. Pansy wasn't exactly a great beauty herself, but she was nowhere near as ugly as Marcus was. He looked and smelled like a troll, and his intelligence level was probably pretty similar to one as well.

At one point during the night, Astoria overheard Pansy and her sister talking. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she'd heard them say her name and she'd stopped to listen.

"I can't believe Astoria is sleeping with Draco Malfoy," Daphne was saying. "I thought she was smarter than that. Smarter than you…. Smarter than me."

* * *

Astoria looked angry. She was marching in his direction, a wild look in her eye, like he'd done something wrong and she'd found out. But what had he done wrong? He hadn't had a thing to drink all night, so it couldn't be that.

"Did you sleep with my sister?" she demanded.

Draco looked around, a couple people had stopped to listen, not so inconspicuously peering at them over the tops of their champagne glasses.

He grabbed Astoria's arm and pulled her into an empty room, away from nosy guests.

"Well?" she asked. She looked eerily like her sister in that moment, with her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed.

"I , er …Yes, but … It was a long time ago." He stumbled over his words, desperately wishing he could just go home, or least get a drink.

"You slept with my sister!" she shrieked. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Aha," a frumpy looking man in one of the painting behind him cackled. "You're in trouble now, boy!"

"I didn't think it mattered," Draco replied, glaring at the portrait. "Like I said, it was a long time ago. Besides, everyone slept with Daphne."

As soon as those words came out of his mouth, he regretted them.

Astoria's eyes narrowed. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? You basically calling my sister a whore."

The man in the portrait was looking back in the forth between them, a gleeful expression on his pudgy face.

"No, I just… Look, I'm sorry, okay. I' sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry about what I said about Daphne. I'm sorry."

* * *

Astoria tried to keep a small smile from creeping across her face, but failed miserably. "I think you just apologized more in five seconds than the rest of your life combined."

"I really am sorry," he said.

"I know," she replied. "But I overreacted. I mean, you had no reason to tell me. It's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything."

"Right," he said. "Yeah, definitely not my girlfriend."

Astoria suddenly felt awkward. She shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of her robes, wondering if someone had turned up the heat. "Erm, we should…we should get back to the party."

"Right," he agreed. "The party."

* * *

Daphne and Pansy stood together, watching Draco and Astoria.

Astoria was in the middle of a story, a funny one judging by the way she was waving her hands around animatedly and giggling. Draco was listening to her intently, obviously taking in every word.

"You know," said Pansy, "he never feigned that much interest with us. Most of the time when I talked, I felt like he was looking right through me. I guess he's gotten better at pretending to listen."

Daphne took a sip of her drink. "I don't think he's pretending," she said, watching as Draco reached out, brushing a stray lock of air off her sister's forehead. "The way he looks at her… it looks real."

Pansy tilted her head, studying the two of them. "Perhaps you're right," she murmured.

* * *

Draco's nightmares hadn't gone away. During the day, he was much better, thanks to Astoria's continued support. But at night, when he was asleep, he was still plagued with horrible dreams filled with images of his past, reminding him of every mistake he'd ever made, every cowardly thing he'd ever done.

That night, after he and Astoria returned from the wedding, was no different. He awoke with a start, tangled up in his sheets, sweat rolling down his face.

"Draco?" Astoria whispered. "Are you alright?"

He took a deep breath, trying to get the image of a dead Charity Burbage out of his head.

"Draco?"

He tried to respond, but all that came out of his mouth was a strangled sob.

She moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest, and he immediately felt a little better, running his fingers through her thick curls.

"Draco," she murmured. "It's going to be okay. I promise. The war is over. Voldemort's dead. He's never coming back. You'll never be forced to do anything for him again." She paused, tilting her head up so she was looking him straight in the eye. "You need to put it behind you."

He brushed a lock of her out her face, running his fingers across her soft cheek.

"It's too hard," he said, his breath ragged. "It's too hard to put it behind me."

"I know," she mumbled sleepily. "But I'm going to help you."

She closed her eyes, her head still resting against his chest, and soon he could hear her steadily breathing. He wondered what she dreamed about. He hoped her dreams were happy. The idea of her being plagued by nightmares like his made him shudder.

* * *

Draco remembered how upset he'd been when Astoria had told him that the random man in the bar had called him a coward, how convinced he had been that it was the truth. Because it had been. He_ had_ been a coward. He'd followed Voldemort's orders because he wasn't brave enough to stand up to him, to risk his life like so many others. But he now realized that bravery wasn't something that some people were born with and others were not. Bravery was something that anyone could have. He could stop being a coward. He could turn his life around. He could stop letting his nightmares and memories consume him. He could stop living in the past and start living in the future.

Yes, he decided, he would stop being a coward. Which meant facing all his fears, including his fear of rejection. He hadn't kissed Astoria yet because he was afraid that it wasn't what she wanted, that it would upset her, that she would run away.

So as he leaned into to kiss her, he pushed these worries aside. Because the risk was worth it. And he would never know how she felt until he tried.

* * *

Astoria kissed Draco back enthusiastically.

Thank Merlin he'd finally gotten a clue.

* * *

Draco stared up at the crack in the ceiling. _Today_, he thought_, I am really going to fix that._

* * *

When Astoria Greengrass was a little girl, she used to dream about marrying Draco Malfoy. About walking down the aisle and seeing him up in front, staring at her like she was the only girl in the world. About saying "I do" and snogging him in front of everybody. About dancing with him, having him hold her in his arms and never let go.

And now all of that was finally coming true.

And the best part was: It was a hundred times better than she ever could have possibly imagined.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was happy. He had stopped drinking, stopped looking for an escape from the present, stopped shutting himself out from the world. His nightmares were becoming more and more infrequent. All because of Astoria and her love. He wasn't completely better, but he was making progress. Slowly but surely.

She was healing him.

* * *

**So that's that. Thank you to everybody who read and reviewed! **


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